Hey Thalia
by Mrs-diAngelo25
Summary: "'We stare at each other for a second then I put the car in reverse and start backing out of the driveway, leaving her staring after me, a bewildered look upon her face. I had made up my mind.'" First chapter is based off of Eve 6's "Hey Montana". Rated T for depressing themes and character death.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey Thalia**

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Disclaimer: I do not own the PJ series by Rick Riodan. Nor do I own the song, "Hey Montana" by Eve 6, which this chapter is based off of.

* * *

_"I hate you! I'm so sick of it here!" I scream at my mother._

_"Well, if you're so sick of it, why don't you just leave?!" she yells back._

_"I'll do just that!" I yell, stomping up to my room._

_I grab my duffle bag and start stuffing clothes into it. I hear footsteps coming up the old, creaky stairs. There's a knock on my door but I don't answer._

_It creaks open and my mother is standing there, a sad look on her face. Her brown eyes look moist and her bottom lip was trebling slightly._

_"Please, Thalia. Don't go." she says, her eyes pleading._

_"No, I've made up my mind." I say, pushing past her and walking down the stairs._

_I hear her rushing down the stairs and after me. I push open the latch-screen door and start walking to my black and white 1965 Mustang._

_I yank open the door and throw my duffle onto the passenger seat. I slink into the driver's seat then slam the door shut._

_My mother hurries outside and towards my car. I start it and the engine roars to life. She runs up and slams her hands on the hood._

_The look she was giving me clearly said, "If you leave, you never come back here."_

_We stare at each other for a second then I put the car in reverse and start backing out of the driveway, leaving her staring after me, a bewildered look upon her face._

_I had made up my mind_

* * *

"Ma'am. _Ma'am_." someone says, snapping their fingers in front of my face.

"Oh, my apologies. Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" I ask, trying to be as sweet as possible. The last thing I needed was to be fired because I had been spacing out.

"Yea. A Bud Light if you would, sweet cheeks." the customer says.

I grind my teeth and get the sleazy man's beer. I hated working at this damn bar. I hated it with a passion. Sometimes I wish I had never left my mother and our small farmhouse. Sometimes I just wish I could go back and pretend like nothing ever happened, like I never left.

"Here you go, sir." I say, sliding the beer bottle across the counter and to the man.

"Say, what's your name?" he asks, taking a swig of his drink.

"Thalia." I say.

"No it ain't! It's Halia!" he says, hooting with laughter.

The stupid manager had typed my name in wrong while ordering my nametag and it came out "Halia" instead of "Thalia". I still don't see how he managed to do that, considering all the times you're required to make sure it's spelled correctly. But he refused to order another one, no matter how many times I begged.

I walk out from behind the bar and over to one of the tables I was serving. There was a younger man sitting there, possibly twenty-one or twenty-two.

His hair was a mess of black shagginess and his skin was as pale as milk. When he looked up at me, I was saw his lips were bow shaped and his eyes were a dark brow, almost black.

"What can I get you, sir?" I ask.

"Ah, lime vodka." he says.

"I'll be right back with that." I say, turning back towards the bar to get the guy's drink.

"Hey! Sweet cheeks! Can I get another beer?" the man sitting at the bar calls at me.

"Just a minute, sir." I say, mixing up the vodka.

I quickly take the glass to the guy at the table and then hurry back to the bar.

On my way there, I trip over the rug. This resulted in me tumbling all over the place and knocking over three bottles of beer while trying to grab the edge of the counter. There were several angry shouts and hollers.

I feel a pair of hands grab mine and pull me up off the ground. Standing there was the young man who had ordered the lime vodka.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern in his dark eyes.

"Fine." I say, looking down out of embarrassment.

I turn my back on him and head towards the back of the bar to the bathroom.

I close the door behind me and take a deep breath, trying not to choke on the putrid air. My hands were shaking and I felt my eyes prick with tears.

I angrily wipe at my eyes, refusing to cry. This was not going to happen. Not here, not now.

* * *

I drag my feet up the stairs to my apartment. It was almost one o'clock in the morning as I fumble with my keys, trying to get them in the lock. I open the door and flip on the light switch, tossing my bag onto the table and kicking off my shoes. All I wanted to do was sleep.

I quickly change out of my skanky work clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and into my pajamas, not even bothering to take a shower. I crawl into my bed and almost instantly fall asleep.

* * *

Dragging myself out of bed in the morning, now _that_ was a challenge. I finally manage it though. I go over to the refrigerator and open it up. There was only a couple bottles of water and a cup of yogurt, way past it's expiration date. I sigh, my stomach turning at the thought of eating anything.

I walk over to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I was much paler than I had been when I had moved to this town. I lift my shirt up slightly and look at my abdomen. I could see my ribs quite easily.

I didn't want to look like this. I hated looking like this. I wish I could stomach some food but any time I tried eating, it just came right back up.

* * *

I write to my mother every day. I never send the letters though. I keep them in a drawer. They're all there, ready to be mailed. I just can't make myself send them.

I sigh and look at the empty piece of notebook paper sitting in front of me. I pick up my pen and begin writing.

_"Dear mom,_

_I can't remember how long it's been since I left. I miss everything about home. I wish I had never left you. I don't know what had been running through that stupid head of mine. I just wish I could see you, talk to you, hug you._

_My job bombs, as usual. What else is new? My eating habits have gotten worse. It's been days since I've eaten anything. I hate getting sick. I might just end this all soon…_

_Thalia"_

And that was that. I set down the pen and fold up the letter, placing it in an envelope and sealing it up. I stamp it and then write her address on it and then the return address. Who knew, maybe I would send them someday.

I hold the pristine letter in my hands, staring down at it. A single teardrop hits the paper and splatters across it.

* * *

I look at the stack of letters tied together. All numbered, first to last. One hundred and fifty all together. It amazed me that I had been gone for five months.

I hesitate before walking into the post office. I wait in line until they call me up to the counter.

I hoped she would read them. I hoped she would read every single one of them and know that I never meant the things I had said. I never hated her and never would. I loved her and wished I could see her again.

* * *

I stare at the knife in my hand. I was in the bathroom at work again. I figured the best place to do this would be here. Someone would find me and I wouldn't just be left to rot in my apartment.

It was unusually quiet in the bar. The TVs had not yet been turned on and the music was down low.

I take a deep breath then do it. The weird thing is, it doesn't really hurt. I feel the warmth of my blood on my hands and I hear it dripping onto the dirty floor.

I feel lightheaded and I collapse, hitting my head against the door in the process.

I hear someone knock on the door, soft at first then harder as they see the blood seeping out from under the door.

It was gushing out now. My vision was blurry and it was hard to hear. I felt like I couldn't move my limbs at all. Everything was paralyzed.

I'm vaguely aware of the door banging open. I see someone with black hair and pale skin lean over me. It was the guy who had ordered the lime vodka yesterday.

"It's going to be okay. Help is on the way." he says.

"No." I whisper.

"What?" he asks, leaning closer to me.

"No. I don't… want help." I gasp, finding it hard to breathe now.

"Well, what _do_ you want?" he asks.

"What's your name?" I ask, with some difficulty.

"Nico." he says. The question seemed to have caught him off-guard.

"Nico. I like that name. I'm Thalia." I say, smiling and closing my eyes. Then, everything goes dark and I don't see or feel anything else.

**A/N:**

**Quite sad. I might make this a three-shot later on but I'm not really sure. If I do, it will be a little while before I post it because I'm working on some other stories at the moment.**

**XOXO,**

**Mrs-diAngelo25**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

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Disclaimer: I do not own the PJ series by Rick Riodan.

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Nico's POV

I don't know what's wrong with me. Ever since I watched Thalia bleed to death on that dirty bathroom floor, I've just felt off. But I guess anyone would after witnessing something like that.

I don't eat as much as I usually do, I can't sleep very well, I feel like something is missing. Something important.

I wander around town listlessly most days. I don't know what to do with myself. I almost feel like I'm frozen in this one point in time.

When I'm at home and alone, I want to be around people. When I'm with people, I just want to be alone.

I feel like I'm going insane.

* * *

After two weeks of this madness, I decide that it's about damn time I do something about it. I decide to see a therapist.

"So, Mr. di Angelo. What has brought you to see me today?" Dr. Cadmus asks.

I was laying down on one of those fancy leather couch things that are usually seen in therapist's offices. The room itself was brightly lit, the walls a soothing mint green color, the floor a soft, beige carpet. There were huge windows overlooking the city. It was gray outside, looking as if the sky might open up any second.

"I feel like I'm going insane." I finally say.

"And what do you feel the cause of this is?" he asks. I can hear his pen scratching against his notepad.

"Well, that's why I came to you. I'm not quite sure _why_ I feel like this." I say. I had a suspicion, but it was a ridiculous thought.

"Hmm. Well, has anything significant or traumatic happened lately?" he asks.

"I-yes, actually." I say.

"What would that event be?" he asks, followed by more scratching.

"I watched a young woman bleed to death." I say, simply.

"Oh." he says, his eyes widening slightly behind his glasses.

"Did you know this young woman?" he asks, getting over his shock.

"No, not really. I had only met her once before I found her." I say.

"And where was that?" he asks, accompanied with more scratching.

"At a bar. She worked as a waitress and barista there. She had seemed to be just barely tolerating the customers." I say.

"I see. And did you possibly feel some sort of connection to her?" he asks.

"Not at first when she had taken my order. But she had tripped and fallen on her way back to the bar and I had helped her up. I swear, when I looked into those bright blue eyes of hers, I felt something. She was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." I say.

"You mentioned her eyes, what did she look like?" he asks.

"Her hair was cut short, black and spiked up, her skin was pale and flawless. Her nose turned up slightly and had a few freckles dotting the bridge of it." I say.

"What was this lady's name, might I ask?" he questions.

"Thalia." I say.

He makes a slightly choked sound at the back of his throat. "And how did you find her when you watched her die?" he asks, his voice cracking.

"I had gone to the bar again, hoping to see her. It had been early in the afternoon. I had heard a bang from the back, where the bathroom is. I went back and knocked on the door but there was no response. Then I looked down and saw blood seeping out from under the door." I say.

"I came in and saw her on the floor. Her wrists were slit but she wasn't dead yet. I kneeled down over her and told her that I'd get her help, but she told me she didn't want any help. I asked her what she wanted and she asked me what my name was. I told her and she seemed happy. Then, she closed her eyes and took her last breath." I say.

The doctor doesn't say anything for quite some time. I eventually sit up and look at him.

He had his had covering his eyes and his notepad was in his lap. His black and silver speckled hair was a bit disheveled looking, as if he had run his fingers through it while I had been telling him about Thalia.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"Yes. Sorry. What happened after that?" he asks, composing himself again.

"I called 9-1-1 and an ambulance came to pick her up a few minutes later." I say.

"Did you go to her funeral?" he asks.

"I thought about it, but decided against it. I mean, I only met her twice." I say.

"Do you know where she was buried?" he asks.

"Rosedale, I think. Why?" I ask.

"Just wondering. It might be a good idea for you to go to her grave and talk to her. Some of my clients find that this works very well for grief." he says.

I didn't think that was the reason for him asking, but I nodded anyway.

I left after that. I took the doctor's advice and went to Thalia's grave. I talked to her for a while, but it didn't really seem to help.

* * *

I look at the little black handgun in my shaking hand. I figured out that I couldn't live without Thalia. Even though I had only met her a couple of times and didn't really even know her, I knew I was in love with her.

I think I've known ever since I helped her up and looked into those breathtaking eyes of hers.

I was standing in the cemetery, right in front of Thalia's grave. I reach into my back pocket and feel the note touch my fingers, the note that explained everything that that I was about to do. I pull back the hammer and hold the gun up to my temple.

I just wanted to be with her. If that was only possible in the afterlife, I was willing to take my own life.

I look down at Thalia's fresh grave one last time and then pull the trigger.

**A/N:**

**Sweet, in a depressing sort of way. Who do you guys think Dr. Cadmus is and why he reacted the way he did to hearing who exactly Nico watched die?**

**I think this is going to be a four shot...Not quite sure though...**

**XOXO,**

**Mrs-diAngelo25**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

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Disclaimer: I do not own the PJ series by Rick Riodan.

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**Thalia's mom's POV**

_"'Dear mom,_

_I've been here for a couple of months. It's hard to believe it's actually been that long. It feels as if it's only been a couple of days._

_There's a small part of me that wishes I had never left. But that's a _very_ small part of me. I wish you could have understood that I hated living in that house before I left. Maybe we could have come to a compromise and avoided this whole situation._

_I got a new job the other day at a bar. The place I used to work at, well, it just didn't work out. The manager was sleazy and kept trying to get me to come to his apartment after work. Like hell I was doing that._

_Thalia'"_

It's been a long time since I've seen her. Five moths, actually. Five months and nineteen days to be precise.

When I received that stack of letters in the mail and saw that they were from her, I cried with joy. I had finally heard from my baby girl again.

As I'm reading the letters though, they keep getting worse and worse. She tries to put a happy spin on it, I can tell. But when you look at the core of the what's been happening in her life, it's all slowly going to hell.

I decided to read all the letters first, then try and decide whether I should go to the return address on them and find her, ask her to come home.

* * *

_"'Dear mom,_

_I can't remember how long it's been since I left. I miss everything about home. I wish I had never left you. I don't know what had been running through that stupid head of mine. I just wish I could see you, talk to you, hug you._

_My job bombs, as usual. What else is new? My eating habits have gotten worse. It's been days since I've eaten anything. I hate getting sick. I might just end this all soon…_

_Love,_  
_Thalia'"_

I lower the paper from my burning eyes. That was the last one in the stack. One hundred and fifty in all. She wrote every day she had been gone. Only the last ten had been signed, "Love, Thalia".

I carefully place the last letter on the coffee table and sit on the couch for a few minutes, thinking my situation through.

She had said that she missed home, that she wanted to see me again. She needs me, more than anything right now. I need to help her get back on track, I need to bring her home.

* * *

I've been driving for hours. I'm finally getting into the city though. I figure it's probably best to stop at a hotel and spend the night, rather than go to the post office at three o'clock in the morning and wait until they open.

I soon spot a La Quinta and pull into the parking lot. I pull into a space and turn the car off. I get out and grab my bag and start heading inside. First thing tomorrow, I go to the post office to see if I can get the information on where Thalia lives.

* * *

A loud buzzing wakes me up. I groan and roll over in the comfortable bed, smacking the "snooze" button.

I sit up and try to wake up. It was eight o'clock. I had figured that the post office would be open by now.

I slide out of the bed and quickly get dressed and brush my long, black hair. I grab my bag and make sure I have everything, then I head out the door and down to my car.

* * *

"What do you mean you can't give me that information?" I ask the employee at the post office's counter.

He looked to be about thirty years old. His hair was red and he had pale skin, speckled with freckles. His eyes were a bright, leaf green.

"I'm sorry ma'am. That's privet information that we're not allowed to just _give_ away." the man says.

"Okay, listen. It's my daughter that I'm trying to find. She ran away five months ago and I received her letters just yesterday. Now, I'm going to ask you again, where does she live?" I ask, a sharp edge to my voice.

"Well, to confirm this, I'm going to need to see your ID." he says, eyeing me.

I sigh and pull out my wallet. I find my ID and show the man. He looks at it closely, looking from it to me and back again.

He sighs and says, "Fine. You're obviously her mother. Let me look in our records and see if I can find her address." he says, walking away from the counter and to one of the back rooms.

He comes back a few minutes later with a folder. He opens it and ruffles around the papers before he pulls one out.

He looks it over then reaches over and grabs a sticky note and a pen. He scribbles something down on the note then hands it to me.

"There. Now, I better not see you back here." he says.

"Thank you." I say, stiffly turning away from the counter and walking to the door.

When I get outside, I look at the address written on the sticky note and then enter it into my phone's GPS. It turns out that the apartment complex was within walking distance from here.

I get into my car, once again, and start it up. It was time to find Thalia.

* * *

"_What?!_ What do you mean, she doesn't live here anymore?!" I practically yell at the landlord of the apartments.

"I'm sorry Miss, her rent was up last week and I went up to her apartment and when she didn't answer, I used my key and went it. Most of her things were gone so I just assumed she left." she says.

The woman was tall and slim. She almost looked like she might have been a swimmer in high school. Her hair was straight and a sandy blonde color. Her skin was nicely tanned and her eyes were a warm brown.

"Well, do you have any idea where she was last working?" I ask, feeling exhausted.

"Yes, she worked at Hank's Bar in downtown." she says, a slight look of pity in her eyes.

"Thank you for your help." I say, dragging my feet as I walk out of the lobby.

* * *

As I'm walking to the bar Thalia works at, I pass a newspaper stand. The local paper's headline read, "Local Young Man Commits Suicide in Rosedale Cemetery."

I merely walk on and keep going. I was almost to the bar, according to my phone.

When I finally get there and open the door, I'm greeted by loud music and people laughing.

I walk into the dimly lit bar and make my way to the back, where I assume the manager will be.

Turns out, I was right. The manager _was_ in the back. Not exactly how I would have expected to find him though.

As soon as I turned the corner into a dank hallway, I saw he was making out with an employee who seemed to be several years younger than himself. She was pressed up against the wall, her black v-neck shirt was pulled up slightly at the bottom. He was tugging at her purple and black pleated mini-skirt, nearly ripping it off the girl's bony hips.

"Ehem." I say.

They fly apart and the barista quickly walks past me, fixing her shirt and skirt, her cheeks the shade of a fire truck.

"Yes?" the manager asks, breathing heavily and adjusting the collar of his black polo shirt.

"I need to ask you if you know where I can locate one of your employees." I say.

"Oh, well come on back to my office." he says, turning his back on me and heading towards a door at the very back of the hall.

I didn't want to follow him into his office, but if it was the only way to find out where Thalia was, I was willing to do it.

He unlocks the door and we head in.

"Now, who is it you're trying to find?" he asks.

"Thalia Grace. She's my daughter." I say.

"Oh. You haven't heard?" he asks, a frown appearing on his lips.

"Heard what?" I ask, confused.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Thalia is dead." he says, sitting down at his desk.

I stumble and sit heavily into the old chair in front of the desk.

"How did she die?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"She killed herself. In the bathroom here, actually." he says.

"Were you the one to find her?" I ask.

"No. A young man found her. What was his name? Oh yea, Nico di Angelo." he says.

"Do you know where I can find him?" I ask.

"Sadly, he committed suicide a few days ago. From what I read in the paper this morning, it was actually in front of your daughter's grave." he says.

"Where is she buried?" I ask.

"Over in Rosedale Cemetery. You can ask one of the locals how to get there. I need to get back to work." he says, getting up from his chair.

I get up from my seat as well, feeling a bit dazed and slightly sick.

* * *

"Thalia, I am so sorry." I whisper.

I was at Rosedale at Thalia's grave. I had placed a bouquet of red and white roses on her grave, they were her favorite kind. There was still a bit of blood on the ground where Nico di Angelo had killed himself, and I could feel it and some of the water used to wash it away soaking through the fabric of my jeans on my knees.

"I am so, so, sorry." I say, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

I put my head in my hands and just sob. I don't care if someone sees me. If they do, they'll understand that I'm grieving.

"_Nessa_?" I hear someone behind me.

I sniffle and raise my head. I slowly turn around to see none other than my ex-husband, Thalia's dad, Eli Cadmus.

**A/N:**

**I have such smart readers! I think all of you guys guessed that Dr. Cadmus was a relative of Thalia's, that's why he reacted the way he did when Nico told him. But, did you expect him to be her dad?**

**Oh, and I couldn't remember if Thalia's mom's name was ever mentioned in the books, so I just made up a name for her. If I recall correctly though, she was always just referred to as, "Ms. Grace" or "Thalia's mom". **

**The next chapter will be the last chapter, and I'm serious this time. I have no clue whatsoever when it will be posted, considering I haven't even ****_written _****it yet. **

**XOXO,**

**Mrs-diAngelo25**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

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Disclaimer: I do not own the PJ series by Rick Riodan.

* * *

**Eli Cadmus' POV**

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

I struggle to find the right words. She looked exactly the same. The same dark brown hair and angular face. Her eyes were that piercing turquoise color I loved so much. Her skin was as pale as ever, the little freckles dotting the skin under her eyes.

"Well?" she asks, placing a hand on her hip.

"I uh, moved here. I'm one of the therapists in the city." I say.

"Did you know Thalia even _lived_ here?" she asks, a sort of accusation to her tone. Almost as if she was blaming me for Thalia's death, as if I could have prevented it.

"No, I didn't. It's a big city, Jen." I say, reverting to using her old nickname.

"Don't call me that." she says, her voice sharp.

"Sorry, sorry. Old habits die hard." I say.

"How did you find out about her?" she asks, sounding curious.

"One of my patients was the one who found her as she was-you know." I say, not able to say "dying." It was too hard.

"Was it that Nico guy?" she asks.

I clear my throat and say, "Yea. It was."

"Oh." she says, looking down at her feet.

"Can I buy you a coffee?" I ask.

"No. I was actually about to start heading home." she says.

"Are you sure? I know a really good coffee place downtown." I say, hoping she'd stay.

"Well…" she says, pondering the offer.

"C'mon. You know you can't pass up a good cup of coffee. You never have been, Jennifer." I say, grinning.

She sighs and throws her hands up in the air. "Fine! Just one cup. Then I need to get on my way." she says.

"Alright, just one cup." I say, smiling as I turn to head back to the parking lot.

* * *

"How long ago did she leave?" I ask.

We were sitting at a small table in the quaint coffee shop. She had gotten a cappuccino, and I, a regular coffee with sugar. It had started to rain right as we had walked though the door. It was pouring now.

"About five months ago." she says, looking into her mug.

"And you didn't try and go after her?" I ask, baffled.

She shrugs and says, "She seemed like she didn't want to come back when she left."

"That's not a reason to _not_ go after her." I say.

"Okay, Eli. I get it. I was a terrible parent for not going after her. Now she's dead. I get it. Can we just stop talking about it?" she explodes.

Her cheeks were red and her eyes were brimming with tears. She quickly looks down and is silent.

"Listen, I didn't mean it that way." I say, my voice soft.

"Oh yea? Then how _did_ you mean it?" she asks, looking back up at me.

"I-" I say, lost for words, yet again.

"That's what I thought." she says.

She drains the rest of the coffee from her cup and then stands up.

"Well, I need to get going. Goodbye, Eli." she says, her eyes filled with so much sadness and anger.

"Jennifer, wait." I say, grabbing her wrist.

"What." she growls.

"I-I'm sorry." I say.

"Sorry for what?" she asks.

"For leaving you and Thalia. If anyone is a bad parent, it's me." I say.

"You got that right." she says, jerking her hand out of my grasp.

"God, Eli. She was _four_. Do you know how hard it was trying to explain why she was never going to see her father again? And do you have _any_ idea how hard it was on me? I was a twenty-one year old raising a child completely on my own for God's sake!" she says.

"I know. And I feel awful about it. There hasn't been a day that's gone by that I haven't regretted walking out on you two." I say, feeling ashamed.

"If you felt so awful about it, then why didn't you come back?" she asks.

"I-" I say, looking down.

"That's what I thought." she says, turning her back on me and walking out the door.

I sigh and look down at my coffee.

"You should go after her." someone says beside me.

I look over and see a woman that was about forty years old.

"What?" I ask.

"The woman who just left you. You should go after her." she says.

"Why? She doesn't love me anymore." I say.

"Are you kidding me? She _obviously_ still loves you. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice." she says.

"Really? All I saw and heard was anger. And she has a right to be angry at me." I say.

"What exactly did you do that made her so mad, if you don't mind me asking." she says.

"I walked out on her and my daughter fourteen years ago." I say, my voice horse.

"Well, now's the time to make up for it. Go after her." she says, smiling at me.

"You know what? I will. Thank you." I say, standing up and quickly pulling on my jacket.

I run out into the pouring rain, barely able to see five feet in front of me. I start running in the direction of where we had parked our cars two blocks away.

* * *

I see her car right as she's backing out of the space.

I run over and slam my hands on the hood of her car. I hear her scream and then she gets out of the car.

"Eli?!" she screams, squinting at me through the downpour.

"I'm sorry! I never should have left you. I was a coward. Things had been getting tight with money and I just chickened out. I didn't want to deal with the stress anymore." I say, walking over to her and placing my hands on her shoulders.

"Well, sorry isn't good enough." she snarls.

She starts to get back into the car but I pull her to me and kiss her. She struggles for a second, then gives in and kisses me back.

She pulls away and looks at me, her bottom lip trembling. Then she collapses into my arms, sobbing.

"Shh. It's okay, Jen. It's okay." I say, stroking her wet hair.

The rain starts to lighten up and soon it's just a light drizzle. She was shaking in my arms, partially from the cold rain and partially because she was still crying.

"Jen, can we start over?" I ask, a pleading tone in my voice.

She sniffles and pulls away from me. She looks at me, her turquoise eyes piercing my electric blue ones.

"Hi, I'm Jennifer." she says, holding her hand out to me.

I look at her hand and then gently take it in mine. "Hi, I'm Eli." I say, smiling.

"You want to grab a bite to eat?" she asks.

"Sure." I say.

"C'mon. I know a good diner in town." she says.

"You know a place to eat? I didn't know that you've been here before." I say, perplexed.

She looks at me and smirks. "You don't know _everything_ about me." she says.

I laugh and say, "Lead the way."

Together, we head to the diner. On the way, she tells me about the food they had there. From the way she talks, apparently it's really good.

* * *

**Five years later**

"Daddy!" I hear someone shout.

I turn around to see Jessamine running towards me. Her black ringlets were bouncing and her turquoise eyes were bright with happiness.

"Look, daddy. Look!" she says, holding out her chubby little hands.

I take her small hands in mine and she uncurls her fingers from the object she was holding. Inside was a little, silver, heart-shaped locket. On it, the initials "T.M.G." we carved. Thalia Marie Grace.

"Oh." I say, my voice quiet.

"Who's is it, daddy?" Jessamine asks.

"It belonged to your sister." I say.

Jessamine knew she had had a sister and that she had died. She just didn't know _how_ she had died. Jen and I had figured that would be a bit too much information to lay on a four year old.

"Oh. Daddy, are you sad? Do you miss Thalia?" she asks.

"Very much, Jess. Very much. Thalia would have loved you." I say, scooping her up and carrying her back into the house.

I could smell the chicken pot pie Jen was making for dinner as we walked through the door.

"What did she look like?" she asks.

"Why don't you go help mommy in the kitchen and I'll show you a picture of Thalia after we eat dinner?" I suggest.

"Okay!" she says, brightening.

As she hurries into the kitchen to help Jen, I sit heavily on the couch. I open my hand and look at the little locket. We had given this to Thalia on her fourth birthday. She had been wanting to wear jewelry like her mother.

I sigh and rub my forehead. I missed her so much. I wish I had stayed. Maybe she wouldn't have died if I had.

At least we had Jessamine now. I wouldn't screw up this time. I wouldn't leave, no matter how hard it gets. It just pained me that it's taken this long for me to realize how badly I had screwed up.

**A/N:**

**Well, what do you guys think? I think it's a fitting end for this story; bittersweet.**

**XOXO,**

**Mrs-diAngelo25**


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